


Pillow Talk

by dweadpiwatemeggers



Series: Emerald and Bronze [7]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26449660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dweadpiwatemeggers/pseuds/dweadpiwatemeggers
Summary: Adam gets home late after a very long day and finds the Detective has fallen asleep waiting for him.
Relationships: Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Series: Emerald and Bronze [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948069
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82





	Pillow Talk

**_The Warehouse, Late_ **

It had been, Adam reflects, trudging down the hallway towards his room, an extraordinarily long day. He recognizes the necessity of meetings, he accepts them, even tolerates them, sometimes, but he most certainly does not enjoy them. Especially not when said meetings include Mayor Friedman, who has the infuriating habit of taking twenty minutes to make a statement that should take two, at the most. Every time he elects to speak. Which had been every third turn today, give or take. Not that Adam had been counting. Not that he had been counting before the second hour, at any rate. 

He reaches his door and is about to turn the knob when he notices the sound within. A heartbeat. A very familiar heartbeat, slightly slower than usual. He opens the door, gently, careful not to cause any kind of disturbance, and can’t help but smile at what it reveals to him: the lamp on the bedside table is on, and the Detective, Charlotte, is fast asleep under the blankets, a finger tucked between the pages of the novel that she’s clutching to her chest.

He steps softly into the room, closing the door behind him with as much care as he had opened it, bending to unlace his boots and tuck them off to the side. He peels off his clothes, tossing them carelessly in the laundry basket, and replaces them with pyjama bottoms. He had planned on spending some time in the training room to make up for all of the sitting he’d done today. But then, he hadn’t exactly accounted for the temptation currently occupying his bed. And after nearly five hours of being forced to keep a straight face while being blathered at by the Mayor, he was in no mood to be resisting temptation.

She murmurs to herself as he turns out the light and slips into the bed behind her, trying not to wake her. It’s a feat he’s never managed yet. She’s a light sleeper. And if he’s being perfectly honest, he’s not sure how hard he actually tries; challenge aside, there’s a not insignificant part of him that wants her to know he’s there, wants to feel her reaction to his presence. 

He hears her heart rate increase, just a little, and she shifts, the book falling to the floor as she reaches behind her and begins feeling for something in the sheets. He slips his hand into hers, and she uses it to pull his arm around her waist. He tucks the other between her shoulder and the pillow, wraps it across her chest. 

He feels her inhale deeply against his arms, like a diver taking their first breath after they surface. “Time is it?” she asks, in a whisper.

“Late,” he answers, “Go back to sleep.”

She hums her agreement, and settles back against him. Her hair, almond-scented from her shampoo, brushes against his cheek. The skin of her arms is soft where they rest against his. And her hand, her hand feels so small where their fingers twine together. It shouldn’t be possible, that someone so fierce, so proud, so capable, should feel so fragile, so precious. It shouldn’t be possible that she should be letting him hold her like this.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers into the dark.

“I don’t think it’s about what we deserve,” she mumbles into the pillow, and her voice is still thick with sleep. He hadn’t realised that he’d spoken the thought out loud. “I think the universe just gives things to us, and we have to decide what to do with them.”

“You sound like Nate,” he says, tugging her closer against his chest.

He feels her huff, and he can hear the smile in her voice when she speaks, “Nate spends many evenings in your arms, then?”

“When would he have time,” he presses a light kiss against her exposed shoulder, smiles at her contented sigh, “when you’re there so often?”

She shifts in his arms, rolling to face him until they are nose-to-nose, her arms tucked against his chest “Would you have me there less often, then?” she teases, running a fingertip lightly against his collarbone. 

He tilts his head to brush his lips against her smile, “I would have you there always.”


End file.
